


Become Your Fears

by gutsforgarters



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fear Play, Older Man/Younger Woman, Post-Season/Series 03, Smut, Strength Kink, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 18:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsforgarters/pseuds/gutsforgarters
Summary: Beth Greene has a singular talent for goading Daryl into all kinds of reckless shit, and he's not even mad about it.





	Become Your Fears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unbadger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbadger/gifts).



> This fic was partially inspired by a comment that unbadger left on [Country Matters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578824). And, yes, that IS my way of absolving myself of all responsibility for whatever this is. 
> 
> Title from "falling in reverse" by EDEN.
> 
> ETA - Now on ultimatebethylficlist with a [beautiful banner](https://ultimatebethylficlist.com/2019/08/07/become-your-fears-by-gutsforgarters/) by leftmywingshome! Thank you so much to you both! ❤️

The cell block seems dead quiet at first, the kind of quiet that makes your ears ring just for something to hear, but it isn’t. Not really. Not if you know what to listen for.

So Daryl cocks his head and does just that: listens. There’s the jangle of rusted bedsprings as somebody turns restlessly over, the thick murmur of Carol’s voice as she talks in her sleep. Hershel’s snores.

Beth’s humming.

Daryl can’t place the tune, but he recognizes Beth’s voice right off the bat. Knows it as well as his own even when it’s locked down in her throat and caged behind her sealed lips. It gives him goosebumps, same as it always does, and he just stands there for a minute or two, listening, thumb tracing idle patterns over his crossbow’s stock like he’s touching Beth’s skin.

He blinks, slowly, like he’s coming out of a drugged sleep. Gets moving again, mounting the stairs to the catwalk and following that hypnotic sound to its source.

These steps are noisy as fuck, have an annoying tendency to clang underfoot even when you fucking tiptoe, but Daryl knows how to walk through tangles of bracken without startling whatever animal he’s hunting into flight, and he walks like that now, stalking Beth like he’d stalk a doe. The song she’s humming gets clearer the closer Daryl gets, and the tune finally clicks into place when he’s halfway up the stairs: it’s “Folsom Prison Blues.”

Daryl’s lips kick into a smile. He’ll take it over “Jailhouse Rock,” he supposes.

He manages to get to the top of the stairs without alerting her to his presence, and there she is, leaning on the railing across the way with folded arms, swaying without any real rhythm to the tune in her throat. Her hair’s loose and frizzy from the humidity, trailing down to the middle of her back like a lone streak of sunshine that’s survived the coming of night. She’s wearing a pale blue night shirt with a hem that hits her at mid thigh, exposing the thin skin at the backs of her knees, and the tilt of her hips has the fabric hugging the outline of her ass.

Daryl cocks his head again, wolfish. Parts his lips and draws the smell of her shampoo across his palate. Sets his crossbow down on the concrete floor, double checking that it isn’t cocked. He doesn’t need some asshole stumbling over it in the dark and inadvertently shooting him in the ass.

Beth’s gone from humming to singing under her breath, and Daryl listens to the lyrics with one ear— _and I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when_ —as he pads up behind her on silent feet. He bumps his hips against her ass, and that’s all the warning she gets before he’s snaking his right arm around her waist and clapping his left hand over her mouth, silencing that sweet voice with a rough palm.

Beth stiffens instinctively, body winding up like it’s preparing for a tooth-and-claw fight, but she relaxes when she realizes it’s him who’s got her. Daryl curves his body around hers and uses his grip on her jaw to tilt her head to one side, exposing the long white line of her throat.

Daryl slicks his tongue up that throat, then tucks his mouth against her ear. “Thought you was gonna wait up in your cell.”

He eases his hand off her mouth so she can answer him, dirty fingers cradling her jaw and tracking grunge all over her shower-fresh skin. She shrugs, trailing cool fingers through the hair on his forearm.

“Got impatient,” she whispers, blue eyes shining up at him like stars in the dark. “I decided to wait out here instead. That a problem?”

Daryl just got off a boring as hell turn at taking watch, and sneaking up on Beth was the most fun he’s had all night. So, no, he’s got no problems to speak of with this turn of events.

“Nah,” he says, and Beth smiles. Daryl slides his tongue over his chapped lips, getting them slick, then leans in to kiss that smiling mouth.

Beth hums tunelessly when Daryl slicks his mouth across hers, and the noise buzzes across the nerve endings in his lips like an electric current. She opens up nice and slow for him, his girl, making him work for it until he grunts with frustration. She giggles, sweet and giddy, then finally gives him an edge of tongue. He sucks on that tongue, makes _her_ grunt, before working his way into her mouth like he’s working his dick into her cunt.

He licks a film of spearmint toothpaste off her teeth, aware that _his_ mouth probably tastes like the stale protein bar he ate on watch, but Beth’s not complaining. No, she makes a happy noise as she swallows his spit, as she hooks her fingers in his greasy hair to keep him from pulling back. She doesn’t have a damn thing to worry about, though, because Daryl’s not at all inclined to break the kiss, not even to breathe. He’s content to nuzzle at her mouth, to get the lips on her face as slick and puffy as the lips between her dreamy-long legs.

Daryl could spend hours of his life just making out with her, but Beth’s already getting antsy, the horny little shit, shifting her hips restlessly back and forth, running the cleft of her ass up and down Daryl’s hard-on, so he unhooks his arm from around her waist and smooths his hand down her lean thigh. Bunches the hem of her nightshirt up in his fingers and drags it out of the way so he can get his palm flush with her warm skin and cup her smooth hip.

Her _bare_ hip.

Daryl peels his mouth off of hers, breaks the trail of saliva linking their lower lips together with a swipe of his tongue. Beth makes an unhappy noise, nuzzles at his jaw, lips at his beard. Goddamn, but it’s hard as fuck for him to think straight when she pulls that kinda shit.

Like, _literally_ hard as fuck.

“Decided it was good night to go commando, huh?” His tone is sardonic, but his fingers are restless, groping the curve of her hip and inching across her soft belly until the nails catch at her tangled bush. He’s not touching her, not where it counts, but he can still feel the heat coming off her pussy like a furnace. Can fucking _smell_ how bad she wants him.

Fuck. Fucking _hell_. 

Beth’s puffy pink lips quirk into a smile, cheeks bunching, and those cheeks are flared up all red with scratchy beard burn. She’s got herself some damn sensitive skin, his girl, always breaking out in rashes from a nickel allergy or whatever, always bruising like a ripe peach. Daryl’s always gotta be real fucking careful about where and how he touches Beth if he doesn’t want Maggie coming for his ass with a dull spoon and an intent to neuter.

Annnd he’s gonna kill that thought before _it_ can kill his boner.

Anyway.

“Seemed kinda pointless to wear panties to bed,” Beth’s saying, trying and failing for casual, those hips of hers shifting like she’s already got Daryl’s dick in her pussy, like she’s riding his cock and not the empty air. “Ain’t like I gotta worry about flashing anybody.”

Anybody except _him_ , which of course was her intent in the first fucking instance. “Uh-huh.”

Beth’s smile’s as innocent as a white linen dress worn to Sunday services, but her eyes light up with a conniving glint. “You got a problem with it?” she asks, just like she asked if he had a problem with her waiting out here for him. His answer’s the same now as it was then.

“Nah,” he says, before spinning her around and dropping to his knees, caps bruising on the unforgiving concrete.

His zipper’s pinching at his dick, so he gets that wrestled down and his buckle undone before taking hold of Beth’s fingers and wrapping them around the hem of her shirt.

“Hold that shit outta the way for me,” he tells her, and, breath hitching like she’s been wounded, Beth nods. Complies, inching the shirt up until it’s bunched above her belly button, and Daryl licks under her navel, runs his tongue down her abdomen until it rasps over her pubic hair.

Beth wobbles, and Daryl grabs her leg and hitches it over his shoulder, wrapping his hand around her thigh to keep her steady.

“You good?” he asks her, and her answering smile doesn’t even pretend to be innocent this time around.

“Could be better,” she whispers back, and Daryl knows damn well that she ain’t talking about her comfort level.

It’s like he said: she’s a horny little brat.

Daryl drags his eyes away from that smile and fixes his sights on her cunt: she’s all fanned out and pretty now that he’s got her leg hooked over his shoulder, so he trails his index finger right down the middle of that gaping slit. She’s wet, but not soaked, and he’s not gonna stand for _that_ shit. Ain’t gonna get his dick anywhere near her tight little pussy till it’s fucking drenched.

So he gets to work on that, on warming her up, hooking his thumb against an inner lip and peeling it back like he’s skinning a kill without tools. He snakes his tongue into that wet little hollow and gets it wetter, coaxing more slick out of her, rolling it around on his tongue and spreading it up and down her pussy lips.

He’s got his nose pressed flush with the top of her slit, right by her hood, and the smell of her gets stronger the wetter she gets. Daryl inhales that shit like he’s trying to get a contact high, wraps his tongue around her clit and sucks. He wants to squeeze his throbbing dick through his shorts, but he’s gotta keep one hand on Beth’s thigh to steady her, and he can’t bring himself to move his other hand, to slide his fingers out of Beth’s clenching pussy.

Beth’s in the same boat as him, though: she’s gotta hold up her shirt with one hand, and she’s gotta steady herself against the railing with the other, so she can’t cover her mouth, can’t mute the sounds leaking out of her throat with her palm, and when Daryl looks up at her, she’s got her teeth sunk so deep in her lower lip she risks biting right through it. She gnaws on that lip like it’s a hunk of meat and rocks her hips against Daryl’s face, grinds her pussy all up and down his mouth. She’s close, so he ups the suction on her clit, but then she releases her lip and grunts, “ _Wait_.”

Daryl doesn’t freak out the way he might have, once, when this was new, when he didn’t know her boundaries or his own and was so, so fucking terrified of hurting her, but she really just means _wait_. Not _no_. Not _stop_. Just _wait_. Give her a second.

Beth worries her poor abused lower lip between her teeth. “Just. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Daryl pulls his mouth off her pussy with an obscene pop that fucking _echoes_ all along the catwalk, but no irate daddies come storming out of their cells, so he licks Beth’s come off his lips like he’s lapping up sugar and says, in a voice gone all hoarse from sucking her off, “Why not?”

Swear to God, the girl’s actually _blushing_ , which is at once ridiculous and endearing. “I wanna come with you in me.”

 _Fuck_. _Holy fuck_ , it’s like she just shoved a hand slathered in her own come into his pants and wrapped it in a death grip around his dick. His hips twitch, and he has to bite back a grunt of his own. Sometimes he really seriously wonders if she’s genuinely trying to kill him.

But, okay. Fine. Girl wants his dick, far be it from him not to give her his dick.

He doesn’t get up off his knees right away, though, stops and takes a second to admire the look of her instead. That pink pussy has gone all red and swollen like it’s been stung by a bee, and ropes of saliva and come are dangling off her lips. Daryl gives her a parting lick that makes her twitch and moan, then heaves himself to his feet, privately thanking God or whoever the fuck when his knees don’t pop.

They should probably move this to her cell or his, where they’ve got sheets in the doorways and at least the illusion of privacy, but he wants her so bad he’s shaking, and Beth’s already turned around without prompting, gripping the railing with white knuckled fingers. She pops out her hips and bumps her ass against his crotch, and, okay. _Okay_.

Daryl’s fingers feel thick and clumsy as he hooks his boxers under his balls and pulls out his dick so it rests heavy and twitching in his palm. He thumbs back his foreskin and shoves the hem of Beth’s nightshirt to the small of her back, sliding his fingers through her crack and tucking them between her shaking thighs.

But, wait. Shit. Condom. He’s got one in his pocket, he’s pretty sure, but if he has to leave Beth and run to his cell for a rubber, he _swears to God_ —

He fumbles in his pocket, letting out a relieved hiss when his fingers close around foil. It rustles in his palm as he gets ready to tear it open, but then Beth says, “It’s okay.”

Daryl freezes, fingers still clamped around the foil packet. “Huh?”

Beth looks at him over her shoulder, cheeks flushed with blood and beard burn and so fucking pretty. “I said, it’s okay. I just had my period.”

Yeah, he’s aware, because _he’s_ the one she used as a human heating pad when her cramps got so shitty she was bent double from the pain. “So?”

Beth licks her lips, and Daryl wants to lick them for her. Maybe he should. “So I’m not ovulating.”

Daryl almost drops the condom. Jesus Christ. _Jesus Christ_ , what is she even _saying_ —

He damn well _knows_ what she’s saying, is the thing. The reckless little shit wants him bare, and Daryl should be shutting that shit down, but he’s not. No, he’s thinking about it, weighing the risks. He remembers from a high school health lesson that he only half paid attention to that women can sometimes get knocked up even when they aren’t ovulating, and Daryl’s not sure if he wants to roll the dice against _those_ odds.

Beth knocks her hips against his, smears her cunt along the underside of his shaft, clinging pussy lips hot as an oven and _so_ goddamn tempting.

Oh, fuck it.

Daryl flings the condom off into parts unknown, which is frankly a stupid-ass way of treating something as rare as reliable birth control, but he’s no longer thinking with his upstairs brain, okay, and frankly _hasn’t_ been thinking with it since he saw Beth bent over this railing with her blond hair loose and her coltish legs exposed.

Daryl shuffles into place behind her, gripping his waistband with one hand so his pants don’t trip him and getting his other hand wrapped around Beth’s soft hip. His dick butts her ass, smears pre-come in wet snail trails all over her skin, and he shudders, want sucker punching him right in the goddamn gut. Oh, God, but he’s gotta get in her. He’s _got_ to get in that pussy—

He does. He lets go of his pants, wraps his hand around his dick, and finds her opening by feel, rubbing his shaft between her pussy lips before pulling back far enough to get the head notched into place. And he’s the one who lines himself up, but _Beth’s_ the one who pushes down hard with her hips and gets her sticky cunt wrapped around his shaft. Works herself halfway down his dick, cunt sucking at him like a mouth, before he’s shoving the rest of the way in, and his breath freezes in his lungs, she’s so goddamn tight. It almost fucking _hurts_ , like that pinch he used to get in his chest before he got himself accumulated to the strain of cocking a crossbow.

He’s fucked her bare before—not often, but he has—and you’d think he’d be used to how it feels by now, but he’s not. Doesn’t think he ever will be.

Girl’s gonna kill him for real one of these days, swear to God.

Daryl has to go still for a couple of seconds, has to pull his shit together so he doesn’t bust a nut the second he bottoms out, but Beth’s already moving, already twisting those hips, getting an obscene cousin to beard burn on her ass ’cause Daryl’s pubic hair keeps scratching at her skin. She slicks her clinging pussy up and down his dick, squeezing a muffled little noise into the crook of her elbow when his foreskin catches at her insides. Daryl’s has to swallow an echo of that noise, hands fucking shaking on Beth’s hips, breath sawing in his lungs like he needs a fucking ventilator.

Well. At least he’s breathing _at all_. That’s its own accomplishment.

“Jus’ might stop fuckin’ you if you don’t settle down.” He chastens her even as he works himself into a rhythm against her plush ass, sliding his dick in and out of her cunt with the nastiest wet noise he ever did hear. “Dump your ass in your cell and letcha get yourself off.”

Beth’s laughter vibrates down her body, makes her cunt clench around his dick like it’s trying to squeeze the life outta him. “Nah, you won’t,” she pants, sounding way too goddamn sure of herself, except she’s right.

Nothing short of Beth telling him to stop could compel Daryl to get out of this pussy. Geek could come stumbling up onto the catwalk, and Daryl would just wait for it to get close enough to stab in the eye before getting back to the business of fucking Beth’s brains out.

Except he _can’t_ fuck Beth’s brains out, ’cause he’s gotta go slow and shallow if he doesn’t wanna make too much noise, and ain’t that a goddamn pity. He keeps rutting into her at a slower pace than he’d like as he leans forward to fit one hand under her pelvis and get a finger on her engorged clit, but when he touches her, she jolts, and the railing gives an agonized _shriek_.

Hershel’s snores cut out, and Daryl and Beth both go still as stone. Beth’s cunt gives a convulsive squeeze, and Daryl doesn’t think that she even meant to do it, but it still makes him punch out a whimpering breath, still makes his dick jerks inside of her.

 _Fuck_.

He doesn’t come, though. _Doesn’t_ , and when Hershel’s snores pick up again, deep and steady, Daryl grabs the base of his dick and pulls out of Beth with a noise not unlike the sound of a sucking chest wound, wet cockhead slapping her on the ass.

“C’mon.” He wraps his other hand around Beth’s shoulder and eases her upright. “Les’ go back to your cell. Ain’t safe, doin’ it out here.” And he’s not just talking about the risk of getting caught. He’s not about to test that rusty old railing’s structural integrity. No, he damn well is not.

Beth turns to face him, but she doesn’t get her ass in gear. No, she hooks her fingers in her shirt’s collar and yanks it right over her head, then tosses it to the side where it pools in a blue puddle on the ugly concrete. She just fucking _stands_ there, buck-ass naked in the middle of the goddamn cell block, looking like some kinda Greek fucking goddess risen nude from a lake.

That’s probably a weird thought to have.

“Uh,” Daryl says eloquently, dick throbbing like a second heartbeat in his hand.

Beth grabs him around his neck, and when she boosts herself into his arms, his hands automatically cup her ass to hold her steady. He huffs and staggers a little, ’cause the girl’s heavier than she looks on account of all that lean muscle in her arms and legs, but he gets himself steadied out in the end and shifts her weight so it rests more comfortably in his arms.

Beth squeezes him with her arms and her legs and rubs her tits against his chest, tight little nipples poking at him through his threadbare flannel shirt. Je-sus _fuck_.

“C’mon,” she says, lashing her tongue across his ear and making him twitch, voice breathless and giddy like she thinks she’s onboard a roller coaster or some shit. “Let’s do it like this.”

 _What_. “Gonna get your neck broke, girl,” Daryl rumbles, even as he pulps her ass with his fingers and scratches his nails through the downy spread of hair.

“No, I won’t.” Beth noses his collar aside and sucks a hickey onto his neck, right at the crook of his shoulder, and it’s almost like she’s sucking on his dick, it feels so good. “You won’t drop me. You’re real strong. I trust you.”

He’s happy that she trusts him, and maybe he _is_ strong enough to fuck her against a rusty old railing without dropping her over the side or breaking the damn thing, but he’s not about to test that theory with her life. His life, sure, who gives a fuck, but _Beth’s_? He’s gearing up to tell her no fucking way, and fuck her for thinking he’d play games with her safety, but then she slicks her pussy up and down his dick, gets the head catching at her soft opening, and Daryl nearly swallows his tongue.

What was he gonna say, again?

“C’mon,” she goads. “Please? I just wanna try it. We can stop whenever." 

Shit.

“Gonna get lockjaw, rubbin’ your ass on this rusty fuckin’ railing,” he grouches, but he still sets her down on that railing and pushes his dick into her sticky pussy. Shudders so hard his teeth rattle, and groans, “Serves you fuckin’ right if you did.”

But Beth’s not listening to a damn thing he says. Her head kicks back on her neck, hair trailing like a waterfall through the open air, throat squeezing out a groan. She clenches around him so tight that, for a wild second, he thinks she’s gonna come without any stimulation to her clit, but she doesn’t. She’s just _that_ worked up.

Fuck. She’s really getting off on this. On being held over a sheer drop by nothing but his arms and a narrow old railing. Getting off on the controlled fear, on the vertigo.

On getting to _decide_ what scares her and what doesn’t. On getting to _choose_ to be afraid instead of being forced into it.

And, oh, God, it’s sick, it’s so fucking sick, but Daryl’s getting off on it too. He’s getting off on the punch of fear that comes when he jerks his hips and sways hard enough to potentially drop her. To send them both tipping over that fucking railing to the concrete floor below.

“Oh, God,” Beth moans, too loud, and Daryl shushes her, but she keeps on talking, fucking _babbling_. “I love this, I love how you can jus’ pick me up like it’s nothin’, I love it, Daryl, I love _you_.”

Daryl tries to be careful, he really goddamn does, but her sweet little voice in his ear’s driving him fucking crazy, telling him that she loves what he’s doing to her, that she just plain loves _him_ , and he’s gotta be quiet, he’s gotta mind what he’s doing and where they are, and he’s fucking _trying_. He fucks her slow, gets her bouncing steadily on his dick, but she slicks her mouth all up and down his neck, tracking spit all over his skin and mumbling, “C’mon, Daryl, _c’mon_. _Harder_ , c’mon.”

And then he _is_ giving it to her harder, giving it to her so hard the railing shakes like it really _is_ about to snap. He bends Beth backwards over that edge, gets her back arched, sucks a hard nipple into his mouth.

“How ’bout this, huh?” He slurps at her nipple, bites down on the soft underside of her tit hard enough to make her squeal. “Could just fuckin’ drop you if I wanted. Get you to bust a nut on my dick an’ then break your fuckin’ neck. That what you want?”

 _What the good goddamn fuck_ , a very distant part of him thinks. _What the_ ever-loving _fuck are you even_ saying _, boy?_

He doesn’t even know. He really does not.

He doesn’t know what _any_  of this is, but Beth just keeps winding tighter and tighter around his dick, and when he fucking _snarls_ , “Huh? Fuckin’ _answer_ me, you little _slut_ ,” she punches out a sob and races her hand down her belly. Circles her clit with shaking fingers and seizes up all over, cunt pounding out an orgasm right on his dick, and, shit. _Shit_.

The railing screams like a death wail, and Daryl’s hips stutter. Beth’s orgasm pulls Daryl’s come out of his dick like suction on a straw, and he groans against her sweaty shoulder. Gets a spike of terror that only makes him come harder when he feels himself slipping, but then he staggers back to safety and falls onto his haunches, jeans bunched around his calves, heart galloping in his ribcage.

Fuck. Fuck. What the _fuck_?

Beth squeezes Daryl’s softening dick with her cunt, squeezes his neck with her arms. Laughs breathlessly in his ear.

Girl’s fucking nuts, but he can’t even say anything about it, because he clearly is, too.

“See?” she wheezes. “You didn’t drop me. Toldja you wouldn’t.”

Daryl grumbles, squeezing Beth’s ass and lifting her off his dick. He makes a face when his come dribbles out of her cunt to splash across the floor, and this? Beyond the obvious health and safety concerns, this is why they use fucking condoms. He’s gonna have to clean this mess up before someone else sees it and gives him hell.

Guess he could always pin it on Glenn and Maggie.

But then he gets sidetracked by the picture it makes, his white come oozing sluggishly out of Beth’s flushed, swollen pussy, so he rides an impulse and grabs her nightshirt, getting it spread out on the floor and laying Beth down on top of it.

Beth props herself up on her elbows. “Huh? Daryl—”

Her words cut off on a groan when Daryl shoulders in between her legs and slurps a spurt of come out of her pussy.

He was rough against the railing, almost _mean_ in a way that he’s gonna have to examine and freak out about later, but right now he’s gentle, going easy on her poor overstimulated pussy, lapping up his come and hers with little kitten licks, eating it all right out of the clenching heat of her cunt. Keeps lapping at her with broad, easy strokes of his tongue until she’s shaking, thighs clamping tighter and tighter around his head until they block off a good deal of his hearing.

He works two fingers into her pussy and scissors them apart so the flow of his come dribbles out faster, unobstructed. He wraps his sticky tongue around her clit, and it just takes one suck to get her to come again, shaking, whining against the hand she threw over her mouth to keep quiet.

He kisses those sticky lips like an apology for earlier, even though he knows that she’ll huff at him if he even _tries_ to say he’s sorry.

 _You got nothing to be sorry for_ , she’ll say.

He guesses that he doesn’t.

He lifts his head, come dripping in skinny ropes off his beard, and climbs up Beth’s overheated body, pressing her flat to the floor. She moves her hand and licks the mess they both made off his chin, and his abdomen clenches.

Jesus. Just—Jesus. Give him a goddamn break. He’s getting too old for this shit.

“Ain’t doin’ this shit again,” he warns her as he combs her sweaty hair back from her forehead. He’s gotta get up and get them out of sight before someone staggers out of their cell for a midnight piss, and he will. In a second. Just a second. “You hear me, girl?”

Beth curls her legs around his hips. “I hear you,” she says, quietly, but she’s smiling, more pleased than chastened. “We can do it like that in one’a the guard towers next time. Railing’s a lot steadier in there. I checked.”

Daryl drops his face against her shoulder with a groan. Who the fuck is he kidding? Girl’s got him wrapped around her littlest finger.

And what _really_ gets to him? Is the bald fact that he ain’t even mad about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's not kid ourselves. They definitely woke somebody up.
> 
> And, listen. You're all intelligent adults. I don't need to tell y'all not to fuck against a rusty railing overlooking a sheer drop, but, uh. Still. Don't do that.
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://mygutsforgarters.tumblr.com/) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/gutsforgarters) if you'd like to come say hi. Or kink shame me. I guess you could do that, too.


End file.
